


on ownership

by ollie_outie



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, will i ever write anything else? probably not tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 22:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18486109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ollie_outie/pseuds/ollie_outie
Summary: y'all ever shit out a gamkar at four am?





	on ownership

There isn't much, you think, isn't much in this world, in this life, to hold you. You've always thought yourself a fading thing, slipping and moving and only sometimes sticking, like sand and waves from your wrigglerhood beach. Like your lusus, almost, but you don't think he was around often enough to learn any habits from.  
There's basically no motherfucking thing to keep you tied here, to this hive, to this life, almost goes against your very nature to stick to one place so long, you think.  
But you stay. For the purring body in your arms you stay, for screeching declarations of pity, for the tiny hands you hold in your own, familiar after sweep upon fucking sweep of life with him. Almost feel them as your own fronds, at this point, stronger and steadier than what your own ragged husk could pull off, but still _yours_ , in ways you ain't sure on but still feel.  
You wonder if he has his own possessive thoughts about you, if he even feels the leash you placed in his grasp, if he claims you the same way you do him.  
You ain't sure he does, don't think he knows the weight he is to you, that comfort though he is, pity him as you do, he is still a weight on your pusher, weight that you gladly hold, but still is there. Don't think he up and comprehends he's why you stay, how his pity is your collar, keeping you just as sure as any shackles could ever hope to.  
He owns you entire, claims you down to soul and pusher and bone and flesh, every little shitbit of your unworthy self laid at his feet like an offering. And the beauty of it is, reason you allow, _welcome_ even, his yanking on your leash, is he takes up all your pieces, gathers your husk to his chest and let's out soft sounds just for you.


End file.
